Poor Old Man Never Lets Anyone into His House, Neighbor Steps inside after His Death

Chuck heard a loud crash from his old neighborhood, Jaredâs house, and found him dead in his basement, but there was something even more surprising in the room. He just didnât expect to land in jail for it.
TÂ Â was already night. Chuck returned home after a long tiring day at work, and as he got down from his car, he saw his neighbor, Jared, struggling to carry a heavy bag home.
The older man dropped the bag and looked up, huffing. âDid I ask ya to help me out, boy? No need!â he said and got back to dragging the bag up the  stairs.
Chuck shook his head, ignoring the older manâs modesty, and ran over to help him. But the bag turned out to be quite heavy, and Chuck could barely carry it himself.
As they reached Jaredâs porch, the man opened the door, and Chuck was about to head inside when Jared took the bag from his hands. âThatâs enough, boy. I think I can carry it further alone,â he said, trying to close the door, but Chuck stopped himâŚ
âCâmon, Jared! Let me at least have a look inside, will you?â he laughed. âThe whole neighborhood probably knows that you might as well refuse the President if he wanted to see your home. Whatâs inside that I canât see, huh?â
âBillions, boy, billions!â joked Jared. âAnd I donât want anyone to get a hand on my billions. So thanks for the help.â
âWell then, Jared, how about getting yourself a new car? Because you will soon need to harness horses to drive this one!â laughed Chuck, pointing to Jaredâs old car. âAnyway, Good night!â Chuck added and went home.
A couple of hours later, Chuck came out for a smoke. He was in the front yard when he suddenly heard a loud crash and a scream from Jaredâs bedroom window. Chuck dashed to Jaredâs front door and knocked several times, but no one answered.
âHey, Jared! Itâs me! Chuck! Open the door!â Chuck called out. Still, there were no replies.
Chuck dashed to the manâs backyard and noticed the open backyard window. âJared! Iâm here! Right under your window!â he called out to Jared again, but the man never replied.
Sensing something was off, Chuck crept into Jaredâs house through the window. As he entered, he discovered an open hatch in the center of Jaredâs bedroom.
âJared, are you there?!â he called out, kneeling beside the hatch. No replies again.
Chuck finally climbed down the ladder that led him to Jaredâs basement and was shocked to find the older man in a pool of blood on the floor.
âOh noâŚJaâŚJared!â Chuck exclaimed. His fingers reached for his phone to turn on the flashlight and call 911, but the light showed him what he hadnât seen before.
Gold. A huge collection of gold antiques on the shelves. Placing the phone back in his pocket, Chuck grabbed a duffel bag from a corner and stashed it with everything he could.
Chuck called in sick at work the following day but didnât tell his wife. It was just another regular day for her, so he left and drove to a town two hours away with a few bags in his hands.
He entered the antique shop and noticed a man sitting at the desk.
âHello, sir. I would like to get these things appraised. Itâs an old collection my grandfather gave me in his will,â Chuck said, trying not to gulp.
âOf course,â the old man responded, gesturing for Chuck to place the items on the counter.
After a while, the vendor frowned. âYou said this was an inheritance. Right? Interesting,â the old man muttered, reaching beneath the desk. A loud siren bounced through the wall, making Chuck jump back in fright.
âWhatâs happening?â Chuck said, his hand covering his ears. He saw the  doors and windows coming down in loud bangs like in movies, and his eyes flared and glared at the old man.
âDonât try to escape. Itâs futile,â the old man said calmly. âBut would you like to hear why I know these items were stolen? âIt was almost 38 years ago to this dayâŚâ
A well-dressed man, Arnold smiled as he entered the kitchen, greeting the staff, including Jared, who had worked for him for nine years. Arnold was a second-generation antiquarian, carrying on the legacy that made his father extremely rich.
Jared greeted his boss and told him his cook, Catherine, made him his favorite breakfast.
âOh, also, Jared. An old friend of mine is coming to visit us today. Please prepare everything for him.â
Arnoldâs friend, Edward, arrived after lunch. They hugged each other while the staff helped with his bags and prepared everything for dinner.
âMy friend, I found a collection of dishes from the 18th century on the black market! The ones my father wanted.â
Edward didnât believe him. He knew Arnoldâs father and learned about the allusive collection.
âIâll show you!â Arnold said with glee. âOh, Jared. Head back to the kitchen and discuss tomorrowâs meal with Catherine. Edward and I will be busy, so I donât want any disturbance.â
âYes, sir,â Jared said, knowing his boss didnât want him to see whatever they discussed. The servant may not know anything about antiques or the black market, but it sounded ritzy. So, instead of going to the kitchen, he dashed upstairs to his bossâs room and hid in the closet.
Jared saw his boss entering the bedroom with his guest trailing behind and noticed everything he did, from grabbing a secret key stashed beneath a tile to uncovering a large vault behind a large dresser.
âSorry, you canât be too careful. Even at home,â Arnold said, finally opening his safe.
âYou are your fatherâs son,â Edward nodded, chuckling. But his laughing stopped after seeing the contents of the safe, which Jared couldnât see. But his bossâs guest marveled and offered him almost a million dollars on the spot.
âNot for sale, my friend,â Arnold laughed. After what seemed like an entry, his boss returned everything to its place, and they both left the room. Jared came out of the closet with several thoughts and a plan in mind.
He asked to head home for the night, and his boss agreed readily.
But Jared didnât go home. He went to the local morgue late at night in his old uniform. After a few shifts as a coroner, Jared realized he preferred to work with living people, but he learned a few things. He reached the mortuary fridge room quickly. People werenât that worried about anyone robbing the dead.
Finally, he started checking each fridge, looking at the tags on each foot. Finally, he read the words âJohn Doe.â Probably a homeless man with no family, so Jared felt no guilt about taking it. He carried the body the same way he came in. No one would even notice the body was gone.
At home, Jared placed the body on his bed and found gasoline cans he always kept in his garage. He poured everything all over his house, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. A tiny matchstick was all it took to ignite his entire home.
He ran away quickly, leaving his old car in the garage to burn too.
It took a few weeks to execute his heist, but he finally arrived at his old bossâs house one night, disguised as a cop, and cut off power to the entire estate. With the help of a flashlight, Jared made his way to the house and knocked on the  door.
He blinded the servant with his flashlight for a second until he realized it was a new hire â his replacement. His boss wasnât home, and the man asked what he could do for the officer.
âGood evening. Iâm Officer Graham. We received a call that someone intentionally turned off the power supply at this address,â he said. âMy chief happens to be a good friend of your boss, and he asked me to come and patrol the area for the night.â
âThank you. It must be true because the power just went out,â the servant nodded.
âIs anyone else in the house?â Jared asked.
âOnly the cook, but the staff house is about a hundred feet away,â the servant answered. âWould you like to come in and check things inside?â
âThatâs a good idea,â Jared said, and once the servant turned his back on him, he struck. He tied and gagged the man, leaving him on the floor as he rushed upstairs to his old bossâs room. He bagged the heavy collection quickly and ran down, exiting through the backdoor.
Once outside, he took cover in the trees where he had hidden some clothes. Jared changed, placing his cop costume in a pit he had dug up earlier. He doused the uniform, lit it, and took off deeper into the forest with his heavy bag.
Finally, Jared reached the car he had stolen in preparation, hauled the bag into the trunk, and took off.
The police couldnât do much because the new guy hadnât seen âOfficer Grahamâsâ face clearly, and the blow to his head caused a concussion.
Jared left town, and 14 months later, he was living quietly and unassumingly, working odd jobs here and there. He had to wait before finding a buyer. A man named Harry, a collector, was interested.
He offered Jared a ton for the collection and agreed to meet at a bar. Jared had to wait for Harry for several minutes.
âWhere is it?â Harry asked as soon as he sat.
âI wouldnât bring it to a bar,â Jared answered, swiftly drinking.
âIâm not a man you want to play with,â the collector said menacingly.
âCome with me,â Jared said, finishing his drink and walking away.
Harry followed, but as they rounded a street, Jared saw his old boss, Arnold, sporting a dreadful expression. When Arnoldâs eyes lifted, Jared took off, only thinking about saving himself. But his old boss had brought reinforcements who pursued, warning him they would shoot.
But Jared was tenacious and crafty. He ran, skipped, turned, and swiveled through alleys, fences, and trashcans. Finally, he found a vast crowd gathered for some protest, and cut through it, jumping to another path and scurrying away before the cops knew what had happened.
âAnd thatâs how we lost track of him,â the antique shop owner finished, sighing at Chuck. âNo one knows if Jared ever sold anything or if he lived miserably, hiding.â
Chuck was sweating, still helplessly using his fists to knock on the  door.